


Doing It Live

by Koichiko



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Ex-Pornstars, Fingering, Live-Show, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Video Cameras, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koichiko/pseuds/Koichiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek and Stiles are ex-pornstars in an established relationship who come back to do one last live-show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doing It Live

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad this is done, I feel like sobbing and eating nothing but cookies for the next few days!  
> FINALLY!  
> It took forever to finish this, mainly because the porn-muse left me halfway through D:  
> Anyway, it's finally done now and I couldn't be happier! :D :D
> 
> I have to give a HUGE THANK-YOU to the wonderful Zoe (zosofi) who was kind enough to read this for me and give me a few pointers :)  
> It's also thanks to her that I erased all the epithets in it, because yeah, they are ugly, I agree ;D
> 
> Funnily enough, while writing this as porn, I started developing this huge backstory on the two of them, on how they started having sex before Stiles even went into porn, how they started dating and they couldn't take still having to sleep with other people for work (or seeing the other person sleeping with someone else), how they went three months without any kind of sex after they both quit the industry because they were so insecure about making love instead of having sex, etc.
> 
> So yeah, should I ever feel inclined, I might write a prequel or something :)

He had anticipated it for weeks, months even, since the day his and Derek’s former manager had convinced him about this being a good idea and not completely stupid and potentially life-ruining.

Convincing Derek of it hadn’t been a task at all, since he liked showing people in the most hands-on ways that he owned Stiles, that Stiles was his and his alone and hey – what was more ideal for that then doing it in front of a live audience?

Live, as in, in front of their computers, obviously. Adler Studios didn’t do live studio audiences after all, luckily.

Stiles and Derek had been **out** of the business for the better part of three years and even now they still got offers almost every month; promotions, movies, scenes, commercials.

 There had even been an artist who had wanted Stiles to pose naked for his art-show, but one look at Derek’s darkening expression when Stiles mentioned it, albeit laughing, and the offer had gotten banned into his emails trash registry faster than Derek could even blink.

So yeah, Derek was possessive as fuck, but Stiles had long since stopped pretending that he didn’t love it.

So, the live-scene.

To be honest, even now Stiles wasn’t completely sure how they had gotten into this. Their former manager, a woman named Erica (hot as hell and a bitch in equal amounts) had somehow gotten into his brain, convincing him that this would absolutely **not** mean a comeback, but just a little way to show people that they were still around. Maybe not exactly on the job anymore, but still alive and doing well and very much just as attractive as when they had left the business (to the loud and protesting dismay of an entire industry).

She might have thrown the words “drop-dead gorgeous” in there and Stiles was so easily persuaded by people mentioning how good he and Derek looked together. Besides, he still had an ass to die for and if Derek wasn’t everyone’s number one go-to guy for wet dreams anymore Stiles couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong with the world.

Didn’t really matter that nowadays, Derek was the only one who got to see (and touch) his ass. Or that Derek only allowed Stiles near his inhuman perfection these days.

Hearing from Erica just how persistent the requests for a show of them together had been, he had kind of gotten in the mood of things. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

Well, a few months later, standing in a brightly-lid studio, with a clip on his ear and surrounded by more people than he could count with just his eyes, he suddenly didn’t want anything more than to get out of there, back to their apartment a few states over, back to their uninteresting but fulfilling jobs, back to their favorite spot on the couch by the window, back to their own private, little lives.

But no, he had agreed to this and he knew that right in this moment, there were thousands of avid watchers preparing their computers and laptops for a show they had waited for forever – and apparently paid an insane price for, if Stiles’ paycheck was anything to go by.

“Alright … Stilinski? You ready?”

The man talking to him was a director he had worked with before, a relaxed guy with a lazy smile, who took his work seriously and never let himself get distracted by the guys or the sex happening in front of him. Stiles had no idea what his name was. He nodded at the guy heavily, gulping nervously.

He was still fully dressed because getting rid of their clothes was part of the show.

“Where’s Derek?” he asked lightly, trying to contain his jitters. The director only nodded to the next room and immediately added “Five minutes!” before going to instruct a few people on something concerning the lighting.

Quickly, before anyone could follow him, Stiles made his way to the adjoining room and locked the door behind him, making sure to block out the rest of the world around them as he approached Derek, who was still trying to get into the insanely tight pants the wardrobe-lady had laid out for him.

Stiles came up to him, running his hands over his back and shoulders, sighing a little at the contact. Derek didn’t even react, instantly knowing it was him and Stiles could feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing and the tension leaving them.

“This is impossible”,  Derek complained, trying to push the dark blue fabric of the pants up his thighs. Stiles grinned into his back, one hand settling on his neck, caressing the hair there. He pushed his body sideways into Derek, hooking his chin on his shoulder and watching his boyfriend struggle.

“You might wanna keep them off”, the suggestion was more loving amusement than sexual innuendo.

Derek cursed. “I can’t have gained that much weight in three years …”

 Pulling once more, he gave up and straightened up, his dark eyes immediately finding Stiles whose heart gave out a little. It shouldn’t be possible to still have the same reaction to being close to Derek as the first time he saw him, not after so many years together. Still his heart skipped a beat and suddenly thumped faster in his chest. He pressed himself a little closer to Derek, just because he could.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted, “You know you haven’t gained a pound in the last decade.”

Derek looked at him and nodded in mock seriousness, before he flashed Stiles one of his half-grins. “That’s true.”

He pushed at the pants, peeling them off his impressive calves and turning fully around to face Stiles, standing proud in just his boxer-briefs, holding the offending piece of clothing in one hand.

“Doesn’t change that fact that these are not getting on my legs”, he threw them off carelessly and stepped closer to Stiles, pressing their hips together teasingly for a short second. Stiles wanted to draw him even closer, but decided against it. They had time enough for that in a few minutes.

“Just don’t wear them. Believe me, nobody is going to mind.” And to prove his point he squeezed Derek’s ass briefly.

Derek didn’t show the expected reaction. Instead of continuing their little private foreplay, he suddenly turned his head to the side so he could look into Stiles' eyes and murmured, his forehead suddenly all scowl-y and worried, “What is it?”.

Stiles smiled a little. Of course Derek would notice. Derek always noticed.

“Yeah, just … nerves. Wondering if this is a good idea,” Stiles said honestly and scratched his neck in a move that he knew made his insecurity obvious.

“Stiles, if you-,“ Derek began, but Stiles cut him off almost instantly.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He stepped back a little and looked into Derek’s eyes, hoping that his smile looked reassuring. “I know what you are going to say, Derek, and really, it’s fine. I know I could stop this, if I really wanted. But that’s not-“

There was still worry in Derek’s eyes and Stiles felt the sudden impulse to make it go away. He buried his hands in the front of Derek’s shirt and sighed, calming down a little at the absolute knowledge that Derek would do anything to make every doubt and troubling thought go away.

 “It’s just nerves, okay? Haven’t been in front of a camera in quite a while. And … I’m just hoping I’m not destroying our lives here, just because Erica said that people still see us as the Brangelina of the gay porn industry. With a fairytale ending and all.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “As dramatic as ever, that woman.”

Stiles smiled a little. He knew that Derek held Erica in high regards, not just because she had basically gotten him the better half of his career. Didn’t change the fact that the first time Stiles had met her, she had basically told Derek to stay clear of him. Not that it did her any good …

“It’s just … look, I don’t want this to turn out like the time that guy recognized you in that video store, okay?” Stiles stammered, a little agitated now. He needed Derek to understand that just thinking about how this could mess up their lives together was seriously freaking him out. He didn’t want to have to move again. He didn’t want to have to turn their entire lives around just because they had been nice to a person once. Or, in this case, an entire audience. He sighed and rubbed his face.

Why the hell hadn’t he thought about this earlier? Was he really still that enamored with his popularity and the way his audience saw him? Was he really that hungry for attention? Why …

But Derek didn’t let him hate himself in silence for long, because he wrapped him in a tight hug, their chests pressed tightly together, and Stiles arm flew up almost automatically to wrap around Derek in return.

“Stiles, it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about it. Whatever the outcome, we can handle it. We can handle anything, you know that. And we are doing this just because we want to. We are going out with a bang. Literally.”

 Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at that, feeling Derek’s smile where his lips were pressed into his shoulder. “You and me. One last time. And when we’re done, we’re done.”

Stiles rubbed his face in Derek’s shirt, holding him even tighter for a split second and enjoying the warmth coming from his boyfriends embrace.

Then he loosened his grip and felt Derek do so in return.

For a moment they only looked at each other, smiling and trying not to forget that the action was going to happen on set and they weren’t allowed to start without the cameras.

Derek leaned down and gave Stiles a brief kiss, warm and comforting and when he pulled back, he grinned into Stiles’ lips and said “Now let’s go have some fun”.

 

*

 

The set wasn’t anything fancy since the studio didn’t like spending too much money on stuff like comfortable furniture (it just had to be big enough to hold two guys fucking, so who cared if it was real leather or not?) but Stiles whistled nevertheless as he sat down on the spacious grey couch-bed. It was situated in front of a huge red curtain, which was apparently supposed to make the set look more sensual and intimate. Derek sat down next to him, intertwining their fingers loosely and facing the director, who was giving last-minute instructions to one of the cameramen.

When he turned his attention to them, he raised one eyebrow questioningly at Derek, who hadn’t gone anywhere near those pants again and was sitting there in only his boxer-briefs and a light shirt that did nothing to hide Derek’s spectacular body. In fact, Derek not wearing pants already brought him so close to illegally sexy that the director apparently decided not to mind it this time.

“Okay, guys. Showtime is in two minutes. Derek, you’ve done one of these before,” it wasn’t a question but Derek still nodded curtly, “so we are going to go over this for you, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t really need to be told what was going to happen. He had seen other live cam shows before – especially the one Derek had done with Ben five years ago – and Derek himself had already told him most of the proceedings, but he still listened carefully.

“You both have the earphones in, right? Great. We start with a Q&A, me asking you a few things on camera, just to set a frame etc. Not really necessary, but it’s standard. Jimmy over there is on the live-chat for you and sorts through the questions. During the session he will ask you things or tell you what the guys want to see through the earphones every now and then. There are no rules as to what you guys do, except for the things mentioned in your contracts, just keep in mind that you have to be done in one hour. If things get too out of hand or people get bored, we will let you know immediately. The lube is on the end of the couch”, he pointed to it swiftly, “and the condoms are under the cushions over there,” another swift indication, “towels are on the other side of the bed, out of view. We will try to keep you in view at all times, so please, for the love of God, don’t block the cameras. We need at least two come-shots, everything else, like I said, is up to you.”

Director Guy looked around and got thumb-ups from everyone around him and then looked at them again.

“Alright? Ready?” Stiles threw Derek a quick glance and Derek, who noticed, squeezed his hand in return, before they both gave their okay.

“Great. Starting live-stream in 5 … 4 … 3 …”

Stiles saw the tiny little red lights of the cameras go up and took a deep breath. Slipping into ‘Stiles the Porn Star’ was easy for him and his body relaxed immediately. Derek next to him had done so even before they got in the room. This was not Derek and Stiles. This was two porn actors, doing porn. This was familiar, albeit not routine for them anymore.

The lighting was dimmed, but Stiles knew it was still bright enough to see everything in detail on screen. On a tiny monitor set up on the side of the set he saw how the stream went live and how some opening titles appeared.

He averted his eyes, squeezed Derek’s hand again and settled back into a more relaxed position. Then their hands fell apart.

Director Guy gave them a sign and they were live.

“Hey guys!” Stiles sounded way more excited then he really was, but this was his persona so he stuck with it. He even threw in a little ecstatic wave.

Derek only grumbled out “Hi” next to him, his signature scowl tightly in place. He was leaning backwards, his weight on his elbows with his crotch in full view of the camera they were facing. As expected, he looked bored and lascivious and terrifyingly hot.

“So, we heard we’ve been missed,” Stiles went on, eyeing the Director who gave him a Go-on-gesture.  “But hey, here we are,” another little wave, “and I think we’ll show you just how fine we still are.”

He couldn’t help it, Stiles grinned at his own joke.

Derek gave an approving grunt and Stiles chuckled to himself. Derek’s non-speaking porn-persona was so ridiculously far from his actual character, it left Stiles in almost delirious joy to know that he was the only one who really knew what kind of person Derek really was. A speaking person. A laughing, smiling and grinning person. Which was why he found Derek like this absolutely hilarious.

The Director, now sitting on a folding chair next to the main camera, held up a hand to show them he was going to start asking questions now.

“So, guys. You’ve been away for three years. What have you been up to?”

The tone was casual and Derek actually sat up a little, although leaving Stiles to answer.

“Oh, you know, all kinds of stuff,” Stiles continued to grin suggestively, “travelling, reading, cooking … normal stuff.”

“Nothing exciting?”

“There was excitement, alright,” It was like a weird magnetic pull, the urge to grin. Stiles just couldn’t stop it. “There was that one time Derek tried to make pancakes and---“ he got interrupted when Derek lifted himself of his elbows in a quick movement and slapped a hand over Stiles’ mouth almost aggressively. Behind his hand, Stiles broke out in laughter, trying to grab at Derek’s hand.

“No, no, no”, Derek shushed, “Sex. We had a lot of sex. No cooking. No **_pancakes_**.” He gave Stiles an admonishing look.

Still with Derek’s big hand covering half his face, Stiles shook his hand violently, still laughing, but he dropped the subject when Derek finally pulled his hand away, leaving Stiles a little disheveled and breathless. Part of the play.

“Yeah, okay, no pancakes,” Stiles agreed easily, “but we did some awesome stuff with the maple syrup … so yeah, excitement. Does having sex in a public park count?”

“No, that’s just cruising,” Derek grumbled but his eyes were soft and he didn’t take them away from Stiles’ face.

“Even if it’s just you and me?” Tilting his head, Stiles looked at Derek curiously. The older man pretended to think about it, so Stiles elaborated. “Because it’s just you and me, right? We got there together and fucked only each other. That’s not cruising, right?”

Derek didn’t have time to answer because the Director threw in a question.

“You guys do that? Cruising?”

Stiles twitched, having already forgotten for a second that they were surrounded by cameras.

Thankfully, Derek answered instantly.

“Not anymore.” His voice was deep and sharp and cold and Stiles knew the possessive look he was getting was just Derek staking his claim over him and establishing for everyone watching that, yes indeed, they really actually definitely were in a monogamous relationship, as uncommon as it was in the industry. Okay, so maybe it could also be understood as a warning for Stiles to never think about cheating on him.

Luckily for Derek, Stiles knew that part to be completely fake though. Even though Derek could look like he wanted to murder people, he knew for a fact that Derek would never honestly threaten him about anything. Even cheating.

All of that didn’t change the fact though that the guy was possessive as fuck and was completely unashamed of showing it.

“What he said,” Stiles added for good measure, smiling at the way Derek’s face relaxed.

The director coughed slightly.

 “Remind us, how many scenes have you two filmed together during your time at Adler Studios?”

Stiles went still, the way he always did when he had to seriously think about something. This time it was Derek who answered, pushing himself a little closer to Stiles, who took in the closeness gratefully and pushed himself up against Derek’s side. He knew they provided a picture of a cute and ready-to-go couple and that was exactly what they were trying to bring across.

“I did one scene with Stiles when he was first signed,” Derek said without thinking, speaking in a calm and deep voice, “and then we did another one two years later. That was it.”

One side of his lips lifted a tiny bit, making him look smug and almost perversely attractive. “On the job, I mean.”

That was the official story, anyways. Stiles nodded nevertheless.

“How was it?” the director asked, looking at Stiles directly.

Stiles smiled. “Strange. And super hot. The scene I did with Derek in … what was it, 2006? It was the second scene I ever did for Adler, shortly after I got signed-“

The Director interrupted him. “Quite a story that was, you got signed right out of High School, right? Freshly 18?”

Nodding, Stiles decided to ignore that question. He had talked about how he got signed way too often already and everyone knew the story of how he was the youngest male to have ever been signed by Adler. “18 and an ass to prove it”, someone once said.

Yeah, he was not 18 anymore and he was sick of repeating himself.

“I got signed in 2006 and after the debut I did with Giacomo, Derek was the second. And it was quite different …” He trailed off, lost in memories.

Yeah, that day had been one of the shittiest of his life. Not that he could ever say that.

“How so?”

Stiles moved one hand up Derek’s thighs, “Well … Giacomo was my first”, another lie, but nobody except for Derek knew that, “And Derek was very different. I mean, his dick alone …” he trailed off again, still grinning like an idiot. Dirty-talk came easy to him, at least in front of the camera.

“Oh yeah, it’s quite something, isn’t it?”

“He has a very beautiful cock,” Stiles smacked his lips, “and he knows how to put it to good use too.” And as if to confirm that, he gave Derek’s crotch a very deliberate squeeze.

Derek looked at him sideways and Stiles couldn’t help but give him a glance back, feeling how Derek’s hand was trailing his hip, how hot his hands were even above the clothing. It felt like they had been losing themselves in each other’s eyes for a lot longer when the Director cleared his throat and another man’s voice – Jimmy, presumably – could be heard over the receivers in their ears,

“Guys, stop staring at each other. We’re only just getting started.”

 

*

 

The rest of the questions were expected and a little boring. They answered, Stiles giggled, Derek scowled and their hands were moving along their bodies, just holding and touching with brushing fingers, until the Director was satisfied and they finally got the sign to go ahead.

Stiles looked up at Derek, searching for some kind of confirmation in his eyes and when he found what he was looking for, he leaned in, hand grabbing Derek’s shirt, and kissed him.

The kiss was searing and deepened almost immediately, Derek not being one for patience. In a matter of seconds, Stiles was pressed unto the mattress, arms locked tightly around Derek’s neck as his entire body was pressing into him. Struggling a little, Stiles got their legs intertwined and angled his head a little to the left, giving Derek even more access to his mouth and him a little more space to breath.

The kiss was slow, shallow and full of things they usually didn’t share with each other, things that were for the camera only.

“Up, up,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s mouth after a minute of intense, burning kisses and wandering, unsettled hands. He nudged Derek upwards with his knee until he had to crane his neck to keep their lips together, his weight almost completely off of Stiles’ upper body and Stiles was able to pull his shirt off in on quick, languid movement. He grinned into Derek’s lips when he didn’t even blink before diving back down onto Stiles, kneading his biceps for a second before his big hands trailed down Stiles’ sides, kisses trailing shortly behind.

Stiles opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above them, tiny shudders running through his body at Derek’s persistence of kissing him all over, nipping at his pecks and licking shortly over his nipples before moving on, his stubble leaving burning, pleasurable marks that lit Stiles’ skin on fire.

Before he even realized it, he was sucking in deep breaths, trying to bring his heart-rate down and remain in control. He couldn’t get too into this, he knew that. Not yet. It was way too early. Still, it was hard to stay calm when Derek’s lips were pecking feather-light kisses all over his skin and his hot tongue played a game of trailing his beauty-marks. Stiles threw his arms back, stretching himself out on the sofa and Derek sat up to have better view of his body, finding where to set his lips to next.

Their eyes met and for a split second, just that short tiny moment, it was as if nothing else existed, as if the room and the cameras and the expecting audience were just a feeble of their imagination, as if all that mattered was the fact that Derek’s eyes looked green even though they really weren’t, that Stiles could see the way his lips were just a tiny bit upturned, the way there was a shine to his eyes and a little bit of pink on his cheeks and the way he felt, through his skin where his hand was resting on Derek’s abdomen, the way Derek’s heartbeat hammered in his ribcage and it was just them and nobody else.

Almost like searing lava in his veins, Stiles felt the need to reach up and tug Derek down back to his chest, wanted nothing more than to drop the act and feel skin against skin, rubbing and heating and building sweat against each other, lips tightly pressed together, exchanging both sweet nothings and the deepest most hidden secrets, while finding a rhythm that wrenched sobs of pleasure out of them and finally swept them over the edge into silent, ecstatic bliss, together.

It felt strange for Stiles to know that this time having sex with Derek would be different, because it had to be and the knowledge of that was both exciting and discomforting, as if his body remembered what "just sex" was like, but didn’t want to remember it in association with Derek.

And by the way Derek was looking at him, eyes dark and blown and still so full of things only meant for him, Stiles knew that he understood.

Derek leaned down, head pressed against Stiles’ chest for just a moment before he sat up again and pulled his own t-shirt off and threw it behind him. And just like that, the moment was gone.

The light was suddenly a little too bright, so Stiles closed his eyes but remained pliant on the couch, limbs long and limber, arms relaxed over his head, unconcerned.

He didn’t see how Derek looked straight at the camera and grinned, suggestive and full of dirty promises.

The earphone piped up, “Marco wants to know what your favorite positions are and if you are going to show them tonight.”

Stiles laughed, pushing himself up and brushing their chests together, exploring all that visible skin and rubbing his fingertips into the ridges of Derek’s abs. He was rewarded with a low groan and Stiles felt hotness spreading through his limbs, wanting to get as close to Derek as humanly possible. In a sudden impulse, he licked a broad swipe up Derek’s neck and felt the man shudder beneath him. He continued to nuzzle at Derek’s jaw and said, loud enough for the microphones to pick it up, “Why don’t you tell them?”

Derek’s hands were securely around his waist, feeling Stiles’ hipbones with his fingertips and making tiny jolts of excitement run through him. They were both kneeling now, holding onto each other so they wouldn’t fall back. Stiles’ pants were uncomfortably tight in this position and he was starting to worry about his blood-circulation getting cut off, when Derek huffed and took Stiles’ hands by their wrists, removing them from his body.

Before Stiles had even time to look up in alarm, Derek grunted out a “Sure …” and flipped Stiles around, pressing him into the mattress again with the weight of his upper body and leaving a little gap, so he could open Stiles’ pants with his free hand.

Stiles gasped at the suddenly closeness and tried getting his arms under himself to push up, but Derek wouldn’t let him.

“Hey Marco, good question. You know … I’m a simple guy, I love fucking in any way that gets me deep. Like, standing up? That slides you right in.” Stiles couldn’t see his face but he was sure Derek’s was grinning again, unashamed. He let out an involuntary groan when Derek finally popped the button of his pants and got the zipper down.

Stiles wasn’t hard yet, but his dick was very obviously interested in the way Derek was hotly pressed above him, how he could feel Derek’s breath on his ear. Squirming a little under him, he tried to give Derek a sign to just finally get those fucking pants off of him. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to do it himself.

Derek slipped a hand into his boxer-briefs instead and Stiles forgot to think for a moment, while Derek stroked him lightly.

“Stiles likes it standing up too, actually. But then again, Stiles is kinky as fuck. I mean, I could fuck him with a dildo twice the size of my fist and let him almost choke on my dick and he’d still come without touching himself.”

Derek pulled Stiles’ face to the camera and Stiles immediately screwed his eyes shut and arched his back a little, pretending for the cameras that he was getting a good handjob, instead of Derek just trying to find a good angle to finally - finally! – yank the tight pants off of him.

God, how Stiles loved that Derek understood what he needed without even so much as looking at each other! Best boyfriend-superpower ever!

Stiles sighed in relief and chose the moment Derek took off his weight to fling his pants aside, to retaliate disdainfully, “Yeah, sure, I do love dicks in my mouth, but to answer your question, Marco, I love it when he takes me doggy-style, because the angle is just perfect. And by the way,” he turned his head in Derek’s direction, “you’re the one who loves just making out for hours on end without fucking at all.”

The teasing fell flat when instead of taking it as a cue to prove Stiles wrong, Derek’s face softened a little and he leaned his chest to Stiles back, taking his face into his hands and kissing him achingly soft on the lips.

“I sure do.”

Derek continued to kiss him sweetly, barely touching their lips together, while Stiles couldn’t help but think that, yes, it was true, Derek loved kissing and he suddenly felt entirely uncomfortable with having  revealed that piece of information. Shit. That had been a very private part of their relationship, something they only shared with each other and he had told their entire audience. This was porn, not privacy, why hadn’t his over-eager mouth gotten the message? He groaned at himself and only noticed by the way Derek’s thumbs circled his jaw that he had probably made that sound out loud. But Derek kissed him deeper, with a little more pressure and Stiles knew from years of experience and naive, idiotic mistakes made previously in their relationship that he was being forgiven.

He threw himself into the kiss with new vigor, relief flooding through his body and relaxing his bunched-up muscles.

The bad angle of their heads got very tired very fast though, so Stiles turned himself around on the mattress, legs spread and lips parted, surging up into his mouth.

Derek was stroking his tongue against Stiles’, kissing wet, openmouthed and dirty, obviously tired of settling for slow-paced. Stiles couldn’t find it in him to protest. He tangled their legs together and pushed Derek over onto his back, straddling Derek’s thighs, leaning forward to kiss him again, this time with a sharp edge of teeth and longing, and then positioned himself to slide his cotton-clad erection over Derek’s crouch.

It only took a few well-placed rolls of his hips to get them both hard, succumbing to the natural way their bodies responded to each other and their kisses became sloppy and distracted, but remained slow. Stiles arched down, rolled his hips in expert movements to rub his dick and balls in between Derek’s thighs and when Derek let out a long sigh, he knew he was doing good.

Stiles proceeded to slide their cocks together in perfect rhythm, noticing with glee how Derek’s dick was twitching and hardening rapidly in his briefs. They were getting to the good stuff.

Thing was, Stiles hadn’t lied.

If he let Derek have his way, they’d be making out all throughout the broadcast and even though Stiles loved kissing Derek, loved the sometimes soft, sometimes almost agonizingly passionate way their lips met, Derek’s persistence in kissing him hotly and licking Stiles’ lips with his tongue and the way he was grabbing at Stiles’ face to get a better angle to taste his mouth and to press their tongues together and … oh, screw it, Stiles thought and went right back to Derek’s mouth. It wasn’t like he didn’t love kissing Derek too.

Even though he was slightly breathless and his movements on top of Derek had seized in favor of sliding his hands into Derek’s black, surprisingly soft hair and deepening the kiss, Stiles was absolutely positive that they had only been feverishly kissing for mere moments, a few short minutes at most. The guy in the earpiece seemed to think otherwise.

“Guys,” the voice cleared its throat, “please stop kissing. The guys want to see some action! Like this guy, Marlow, he wants to know what kind of toys you use.”

Derek sighed into the kiss and pulled his hands away from Stiles face, looking dissatisfied and, yes, very pissed-off. He scowled in direction of one of the cameras, his eyes murderous.

Derek was possessive. And he hated it when somebody interrupted their kissing-time. Stiles laughed a little at how completely contradiction those sides of Derek were and nevertheless, they made perfect sense to him. He was grumpy and unfair and childish and quite possibly the most fascinating person Stiles had ever met.

He got up to his knees and pulled at the rim of Derek’s boxer-briefs, his fingers rubbing at his dick through the fabric.

“Aaah, the joys of toys. We have an entire arsenal, actually. We were planning to get a closet for the dildos alone, but then again, what exactly are side-tables there for anyways?”

He nudged a still angry looking Derek with his knees and got the last bit of cotton off the guy when he lifted his hips. Derek’s dick lodged free and, although still only half-hard, was already at an impressive thickness. Stiles slid his hands over his erection softly, his hand barely touching the reddening skin.

“But you know what? I’ll show you the best toy I have.”

He looked up at Derek, who seemed to understand what he was getting at as his face brightened in a second. ‘Brightened’ as in ‘his brows didn’t furrow as much’.

Stiles started out at Derek chest, licking across the skin, his long fingers slowly skimming the firm muscles with his nails ever so lightly, making Derek shudder. He planted his hot mouth farther down, changing from teasing pecks to open-mouthed kisses that were more tongue than anything else. When he reached Derek’s belly button, he could hear his heavy breathing above him and felt his fingers massage his hairline and scalp, a sure sign that his Derek was very much enjoying what he was getting. The way Derek’s thick erection rubbed against Stiles’ chest made not only Derek groan and push closer, but also spread warmth and unrelenting arousal through Stiles’ body. He was so very tempted to just forgo everything and get his hands on both of their dicks, but … after all, this was a show. This was for the audience, not for them.

And he would make this a good show.

When Derek’s dick became too eager and started to become an annoying pressure against his throat, Stiles gave it a quick kiss to the head, a tight squeeze to the shaft and moved further down without even blinking.

He licked his lips and looked up to search for Derek’s eye, which were fixated on him. Derek’s lips were partially open and he was sucking in deep gulps of air through his mouth, an inviting and expectant look on his face.

For Stiles, that was the official GO-sign.

Without much further ado and without any kind of warning, he crouched between Derek’s legs, shifted them up and spread Derek’s ass under him. It only took a second of nosing at Derek’s balls before Stiles got his tongue on Derek’s tight, pink opening and licked a long, slow strip across the sensitive ring of muscles.

Derek exhaled loudly and let his head roll back against the mattress.

A gasp from one of the guys behind the cameras echoed through the room, strangely loud and appropriate, and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle, a sound that vibrated through Derek, who made a choked off hissing-sound that sounded a lot like “Fuck”.

Stiles pressed himself closer to Derek’s ass, making Derek hold his own legs against his chest and thus, spreading him even further. Grabbing his hips and pulling him a little down the mattress, Stiles got a better angle and then brought his lips to Derek’s balls, sucking at them and seeing Derek’s cock twitch against his stomach. He didn’t wait long though, holding onto Derek’s cheeks after only a few moments, pushing them apart and settling his tongue back on the Derek’s hole.

The first lick was with a flattened tongue, broad and sloppy, making Derek shiver and press closer, the second was with more strength and precision and after that it only took Stiles another lick to get a good rhythm. He nudged and licked at Derek’s entrance, pointing his tongue to circle the rim slowly while simultaneously rubbing his thumbs along the still softening muscle.

They had done this hundreds of times before, Derek loving Stiles’ tongue on him, freely admitting that apart from actual fucking, he enjoyed rimming the most. Stiles ate him out, slow and intense, for several minutes, long strokes with pressure and hard, quick stabs to get him deeper inside Derek when he started to relax. Stiles opened him up with his tongue and thumbs, circling his hole and nipping at the skin around it, eliciting cut-off groans from Derek and heavy breathing.

The room was suddenly quiet, apart from the obscene sounds of Stiles’ tongue lapping at Derek’s hole and Derek’s sharp intake of breath when Stiles pressed one of his thumbs in alongside his tongue.

When he shifted a little, to get a better angle and maybe get his tongue in even deeper, his dick rubbed in between his thigh and stomach and Stiles had to stop for a second to appreciate how painfully hard he had gotten in the meantime.

For a second he stared at Derek’s hole, angry red and shiny with spit, gaping a tiny bit and then up to Derek’s face, flushed and sweaty and watching him with eyes full of need and barely contained lust.

Grinning to himself, Stiles noticed Derek’s hands firmly grabbing onto the his own thighs, knuckles white and the way his abs jumped when Stiles reached up to trace one hand teasingly over the smooth skin of his stomach.

Reaching back down, he kissed Derek’s hole again, licking into it vigorously before pushing both of his thumbs into Derek at once.

“Fuck,” Derek breathed out above him, filling Stiles with a very strong sense of satisfaction. As absurd as it was to think about it in front of cameras and an audience watching their every move, it was exhilarating to know that doing this to Derek was almost like being alone, because Derek was only like this for him. And nobody else would ever get to touch him and taste him and make him sigh those deep and raspy successions of “Fuck” and “Oh god” and “Stiles”.

He knew he was gloating when he looked sideways into the camera, but this feeling, to know that he was the only one touching Derek (ever again, if it was up to him) and that he would have him forever (again, if it was up to him), just had to be shared with the world. As excited as he had been to do this live show and as much fun as he was having, it still felt good to give all of Derek’s admirers a very deliberate “Fuck you!” paired with an even more evil “He’s mine and you can never have this!”

And even though Derek was groaning way too loud and his squirming was exaggerated, Stiles was sure in his knowledge that Derek felt the same way.

 “Twist your finger.” Derek’s order came from above him, voice commanding, and Stiles obliged immediately. Twisting one of his thumbs a little deeper and to the side, he used the other thumb to stretch Derek even further.

Derek’s face twitched and he groaned, loud and long, with a hitch in his voice.

Stiles hadn’t been paying attention to how riled up he had gotten, legs a little jumpy under the bad angle and his entire body hot with anticipation and **want**.

God, he wanted Derek so very badly.

Of course, like the perfect example for shitty timing, their earpieces piped up again and this time Derek actually growled.

“Derek, Julian here wants to know how you are feeling. Stiles, André wants to know if we are going to see you top Derek today. Tiny side comment: people are excited as fuck, guys, this is awesome!”

Jimmy sounded way too excited himself, for Stiles’ taste, but he took the interruption for what it was and sat back on his heels.

From his place on the mattress Derek grinned into the nearest camera, filthy and open and rasped “Love his tongue in my ass”.

There was another gasp from one of the camera-man. Stiles was starting to think the guy was seriously unprofessional if he couldn’t even keep his own arousal under control while filming fucking **porn**.

To a certain degree and from the viewpoint of the audience, he understood the reaction though. After all, Derek had a fierce and almost intimidating reputation in this industry.

Derek was a power-top. One who had only ever been fucked once in his entire porn-career. He was known under a lot of different nicknames, but they all meant the same thing in the end: a guy, who fucked his partners like a jackhammer, fast and brutal, until they were left spend and raw and too fucked-out to even think.

Fucking was Derek’s image and he had to state multiple times in interviews that he was not, indeed, gay-for-pay or, even worse, a homophobe. It was an image, concocted by one of his former managers. An image that had been impossible to shake.

Moving his fingers over Derek’s erection, gripping him firmly while watching Derek react to his touch, Stiles thought about the discussion they had had about this weeks ago, about how they would treat this like a job and not as a way to show people their private lives.

The rimming was a way of teasing the audience, the guys who jerked off to them on the other sides of their screens, and showing everyone that their relationship was real and the things they would do for each other endless. They wanted people to see, to really see, that what they had was private and real and intense and so much more than anyone in this industry thought it was.

“Aaaah,” Derek groaned loudly, as Stiles leaned back down and pushed his tongue into him again without so much as a warning, the entrance slick with saliva. Derek arched his back and started panting, sucking in air desperately when Stiles pressed a finger into him alongside his tongue, pushing it into him deeper, thrusting in and out wildly and without rhythm.

Stiles almost regretted their decision to fall back into their roles when Derek grabbed his hair forcefully and nudged him with his knee, indicating that he had to stop now or Derek was going to finish early. Grinning, Stiles let up, swiping his tongue over Derek’s red, sensitive opening one last time before rocking back on his feet.

Secretly, Stiles hated the fact that as a guy who had mostly bottomed during his career, getting penetrated or rimmed was still a stigmata that made a guy seem “weak” and “effeminate”, even in the gay porn industry.

He looked at the cameras sideways when he leaned up to kiss Derek sweetly, pecking his unmoving lips, stroking his dick with one hand, while rubbing his own erection on Derek’s thigh, eliciting tiny gasps. Truly, Derek was an alpha, in and out of bed, but the notion that he was any less of a dominant character in bed just because he loved Stiles rimming or even fucking him (which did happen, even more often than Stiles had thought possible at the beginning of their relationship) was simply ridiculous. He knew that a lot of people seeing this on their screen would react badly, wouldn’t want to see Derek “submitting” … and Stiles couldn’t help but feel sad for their limited views. Stiles had always preferred submitting, which was lucky since Derek really was a dominating fucker most of the time. The fact that Derek took it up the ass too didn’t change that fact at all.

Jimmy had said that people were excited to see this unknown side of Derek, so maybe there wouldn’t be a backlash after all.

Derek was sucking on his bottom lip when Stiles looked up, grinning into the camera like he was daring someone to protest against Derek’s apparent “submission”. He almost forgot the question he was supposed to answer until Jimmy repeated it in through the earpiece.

“Oh, hey André.  Thanks for the question.  Sorry to disappoint, but nope, I’m not topping Derek today, sorry. I think Derek wouldn’t like that too much, would you?”

He nudged Derek with his knee, making him let go of his legs so his feet where planted firmly on the mattress again. Stiles grinned at him intimately, in a way that told Derek he knew that to be a lie, but he had to play his part.

Derek pushed himself up and took Stiles’ face roughly in between his hands, before murmuring a dark “No” and kissing him forcefully. Stiles tried getting his feet out from under himself and let himself fall back, glad the couch-bed was long enough to accommodate their bizarre changes in position. They fell with a small “Unf” in between their lips, Derek pressed on top of him and holding onto his face, Stiles unwilling to stop his fall and being half-crushed by Derek’s weight.

None of them complained though, kissing with a purpose, Derek ridding Stiles of his boxer-briefs, now finally both stark naked and aroused and so, so ready to go.

They got their hands around each other’s dicks, tugging and making it obvious for the cameras, but it wasn’t long before Derek grabbed one of the bottles of lube and sat up. Throwing the small bottle away to the side, he got his fingers wet and he trailed his hand along Stiles dick, slickening it up. Afterwards, he moved his fingers back slowly, giving Stiles’ balls a firm squeeze, massaging his the skin behind for a short moment before finally finding his was to Stiles’ hole. At that point, Stiles was hissing and writhing in pleasure, knowing that Derek was about to finger him, like only he knew how.

With one last look of warning, Derek started pressing his index finger into him, not waiting for Stiles to give him his approval. Derek would have waited, usually. But ‘Derek the Pornstar’ didn’t.

Stiles wasn’t surprised, had expected Derek’s finger to breach him without letting his muscles adapt first. The ring of muscles was still hard and unyielding as Derek’s finger pushed forward with even more force, thankfully slicked up enough not to hurt Stiles. They were both sweaty and out of breath, Stiles feeling Derek opening him up slowly, trying hard to relax so it wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

Being penetrated, feeling something push inside him and open him up, it was still a feeling Stiles could get lost in. He moaned when Derek pulled out his finger and pushed in both his thumbs, hands sprawled against his thighs and pushing them further apart. Working his slicked up thumbs in and out in a rhythm, pushing and rubbing against the ring of muscle, dipping deeper into his hole in a short shallow stabs --- it left Stiles gasping, wanting more and leaking onto himself. Derek’s eyes were dark and hungry as Stiles looked at him, before he threw his head back and moaned out loudly. He felt oversensitive and almost too hot, not entirely happy with how rough Derek was being but knowing that his body was able to take it nevertheless.  No matter how many times he did this, it was still always uncomfortable at first.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the cameras come in to shoot from Derek’s point of view and he closed his eyes tightly, moaning high and needy and Derek slipped out his thumbs to instead push his index and middle finger in.

“Ah, aah …” The sounds that came out of Stiles’ mouth were guttural and raw with pleasure, knowing how much the audience expected him to be vocal.

Derek turned him to his side, two fingers still buried inside his hole, wiggling and pushing in and out in deep, long thrusts that left Stiles groaning, aching with arousal. He threw one leg high over Derek’s shoulder and pushed closer. Derek had one arm over Stiles’ back, lodging him against his chest, Stiles desperately clinging to his shoulders as Derek buried three fingers in his hole. His dick was rubbing against Derek’s hard abs and he felt Derek move his fingers with intent, working them deeper and deeper, his thumb massaging at his ring as his wrist moved in small circles to open him up wider.

Stiles rubbed his sweaty forehead on Derek’s shoulder, while Derek moved against him, cock a rock-hard pressure against his thigh. It took one particular deep push from Derek’s thick fingers to get Stiles babbling.

 “Ahh … oh god,” he gasped out, breath coming hard and uneven. He hitched his leg up even higher, giving him more access.

“Yeah, aaah. Like thaa-- … yes! Yes!” Derek’s finger had finally found the right angle, skimming over the swollen bump that was his prostate and Stiles arched into him in an almost painful ark, nails biting into Derek’s skin.

Derek grinned against his ear, pressing down harder and Stiles screamed, high with pleasure and want and the devastation of not having all of Derek just yet.

“Derek, fuck yeah …” he insisted, voice raw, kissing Derek filthily, interrupted by loud gasps and moans when Derek started pressing more fingers into him and Stiles clenched down on them.

“You like that, don’t you?” Derek whispered against him, voice loud enough so that they cameras could pick it up without a problem, and Stiles trembled, his legs weak and his arms aching, his entire body desperate for relief.

He was jerking forward, trying to increase the pressure on his cock, but Derek moved with him, making Stiles groan in frustration. In answer, Derek hooked his fingers into the sensitive spot inside him almost apologetically and Stiles threw his head back as stars exploded behind his eyelids. He was so close to coming that he was twitching in his effort to get close to Derek again, to find something to rub against. He was moaning shamelessly now, a litany of gasps and groans falling from his lips and he felt more than heard Derek’s moans in return. Derek’s cock was a hard line against his thigh, precome smearing on his skin and Stiles was so hard he felt like sobbing, the heat in his body threatening to consume him alive.

“Haa- … ah,” was all that came out of his mouth instead, lips lush and red. His entire body tensed and he knew Derek could feel it, knew Derek should stop now before it was too late, which was why he wasn’t prepared when Derek pressed against him almost aggressively, thrusting his fingers deeper in a hard rhythm, circling his wrist in vicious movements and then leaned his hips closer to let Stiles’ dick rub between them, the combined pleasure too much for Stiles to hold on.

His orgasm hit him hard and he came with a long, devastated cry, eyes closed and arching, Derek holding him through it, kissing his face lovingly until the spasms subsided and he fell back hard against the mattress. His skin was tingling, hands gripping hard onto the sheets. Breathless, he felt the emptiness when Derek pulled his fingers out of him with an uncomfortable tug. He was still trying to regulate his breathing when Derek cleaned him quickly and thoroughly and it was only when Derek started kissing him that he squinted accusingly at him.

Derek only grinned in return, his tongue swiping at Stiles’ bottom lip, before whispering a warm “Couldn’t resist”. Stiles kissed him more fiercely in return.

Stiles had almost forgotten about the cameras and for a split second panic came over him. Now that he had already come once, he didn’t know how they were supposed to buy enough time until he was hard again. Derek usually got him ready for round two in about fifteen minutes, but being in front of cameras with his boyfriend had somehow managed to be a little more un-erotic than he had expected it to be and suddenly it felt like the whole world was just waiting for him to get hard again. Not exactly easy to relax under such circumstances.

Stiles sighed internally.

Thankfully, Derek didn’t seem to be worried at all. He licked into Stiles’ mouth slowly and with easy patience, nipping at his jaw and neck, hands still going over his body slowly, massaging and gripping and fingers digging into his skin. Stiles felt tired and sated and still a little breathless, but the intention behind Derek’s touch made him want to go for more. His hands were promising and soothing and for a second, Stiles had the almost violent urge to never let them go from his body, ever. He couldn’t feel Derek’s dick on him, so he tried to change their positions, tried to get Derek’s body fully on top of him instead of only side-ways.

“Let me,” he said and tried to get on his elbows, but Derek wouldn’t let him up, so he just fell uselessly back against the mattress.

Derek’s voice was warm and pleased when he murmured “Nope” and continued showering him with kisses and trailing his blunt nails over Stiles’ side, making him twitch and giggle as he was being tickled.

“Stop iiiit,” Stiles laughed and tried squirming away but Derek held him in place, kissing with laughing lips.

Stiles was on his back again, Derek towering over him unthreateningly and he threw his hands up over Derek’s shoulder, threading it through his dark hair, rubbing at his scalp and tracing his eyebrows. Meanwhile, Derek never stopped kissing and tickling him, making Stiles squeak very unmanly sounds and squirm to his sides, trying to get away from Derek’s teasing hands.

It must have made for a ridiculously adorable scene because the Director didn’t tell Jimmy to make them stop.

Derek’s penis was still poking into the flesh of Stiles’ thigh but he didn’t seem bothered with it at all. Not until Stiles was completely relaxed and started getting increasingly interested in round two. He grabbed at Derek’s erection, watching as his eyes went dark and he surged forward into a bruising kiss. Stiles got both of his hands under Derek, who had his hands around his head to deepen the kiss, and started stroking Derek with slow, rough pulls, the other hand cradling his balls and squeezing intermittently.

Derek was breathing hard against his lips and Stiles could tell by the way Derek’s muscles quivered that he had been trying to calm himself down to delay his own orgasm and that Stiles touching him had brought him back to that dangerous edge in an instant. Slowly Stiles licked over Derek’s lips, trailing sharp little bites along his jaw and then nibbled at his ear, feeling how Derek shuddered, a low moan escaping his parted lips.

Stiles gave him a particularly tight upwards squeeze, rotating his wrist, and Derek bucked his hips, trying for more friction. When Stiles didn’t repeat the movement, Derek’s eyes slit open and suddenly he wasn’t leaning over Stiles anymore, but instead pressed against him, sweat trickling slowly down his forehead. Stiles found his lips, arching into him and moved his legs around Derek’s waist, pinning them against each other, his hands moving rapidly to Derek’s back. Derek was rutting against him in rough, hasty movements, Stiles’ dick hardening quickly in between their slick bodies as Dereklicked into his mouth, hot and inpatient and obviously sick of waiting.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Derek said in a rumbling voice, raw and sharp and way too turned on for subtleties. Shuddering, Stiles felt Derek’s throbbing cock gliding alongside his own, too uncoordinated to get them aligned, but they didn’t care. They were both making needy sounds, moaning into each other’s mouths shamelessly. Derek’s hands were still on Stiles’ face, holding him in place. Fascinated, Stiles watched when Derek closed his eyes and made a sound deep in his chest, pleasure sizzling through his entire body, making him tingle with an aching, desperate sense of want.

Derek’ heated skin was like a drug to Stiles, he couldn’t stop touching, grabbing, pushing into it with his whole body. Licking and biting, he tried getting even closer to Derek, moving his hips exasperatedly when Derek’s words finally got through to his brain, mouth suddenly dry and his head chock-full of filthy images, and he wanted _so badly_ …

“Yes, yes, yes,” he groaned, kissing even more feverishly, “Derek, yes …” He knew he was making noises that somebody with dignity was never supposed to make but … screw dignity! Derek was the hottest man he had ever met and in Stiles’ mind, it was still a completely miracle that this man – this gorgeous, inside and out inhumanly beautiful man – wanted Stiles as much as he wanted Derek.  Not to mention that his need, his devastating want for Derek was actually reciprocated!

So screw dignity, Stiles told that tiny little part of his brain that wouldn’t shut up and arched into Derek again, who pressed back equally eagerly and pressed him into the mattress with his weight. When their cocks rubbed against each other by accident, their humping becoming more frantic by the minute, they groaned in unison. Stiles’ head was drowsy with how much he wanted Derek to just take him already, throwing his head back to give Derek more access to the sensible skin of his neck. Derek licked over one of the thick veins almost instantly and Stiles whole body quivered.

He couldn’t take anymore.

“Derek,” his voice was so raw that he didn’t even recognize it as his own at first, “Derek, now. _Please_ , now.”

He pushed at Derek, hard, grabbing his hair to yank him away from his body, knowing that Derek would follow his words instantly. Derek hated getting his hair yanked (although he didn’t mind Stiles holding onto it), so that had become the official sign for “much needed change of pace”. Stiles felt it only appropriate to use this tactic now, since he was sure Derek would come any second if they didn’t get this show on the road **right now**.

The older man sat up, muscles shining with sweat flexing unfairly right in front of Stiles’ eyes, making his mouth water. Derek looked at Stiles with lust-dark eyes, hair at his forehead sweat-slick, lips red and looking sinfully used.  His dick was thick and full and an angry red that Stiles was feeling terribly tempted to taste, remembering the hot and heavy weight from the countless he had had Derek’s dick on his tongue before. He licked his lips unconsciously and put his hands on his own erection, spreading his legs so Derek could settle in between them comfortably.

Which he didn’t do.

Derek was still throwing his head around, frantically looking for what Stiles now realized was probably the lube. He had to be honest though, he really didn’t remember where the bottle was either.

“End of the couch, guys, in between the cushions,” Jimmys voice sounded tiny in their ears and for once, they weren’t annoyed by it. Derek almost launched himself at the cushions, grabbing at the almost comically gigantic bottle of see-through liquid – not the same they had used before, Stiles acknowledged briefly.

Stiles knew this was getting too personal, even though he wanted nothing more than to ban those that knowledge into the farthest corner of his brain. He didn’t want to deal with it, not right now when he was so horny and desperate for Derek inside him, but– they were starting to lose themselves in each other, their bodies too used to making love … they were starting to let people see too deeply.

Stiles had no idea how to fake this though. No idea how to make himself enjoy this differently. It was only now that he realized that he hadn’t done porn for three years and for all it was worth – he was starting to realize that maybe he had forgotten how to act the part.

When Derek came back, spreading his legs even further with his knees, Stiles grabbed at his forearms, and the older man stopped in his movement, taking time to look at him questioningly.

Stiles saw him swallow dryly and wondered for a split second how he must look in Derek’s eyes right now. He could see how one of the cameras was changing positions, zooming in to let the audience share in the point of view.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, willing Derek to understand. He pushed his hip up, making the angle right and then inserted one of his fingers into his still slick hole, moaning obscenely at the intrusion and moving right into the view of the camera. He could hear Derek inhaling sharply above him, felt the stretch of his own finger inside himself. Stiles opened his eyes to a nodding Derek, staring straight at him.

Derek didn’t waste any more time after that.

He grabbed the lube, slicked himself up, placing his lubed-up hand on Stiles’ thigh, leveled himself up and then guided his thick cock to Stiles’ opening, rubbing the head along the cleft of his ass before lining himself up.

His cock started pushing against the hole, making Stiles shudder, sweat trickling down his face. He was gnawing at his lower lip in anticipation, looking down at where Derek’s dick was nudging against him, trying to push inside of him with a series of short, firm jabs. Stiles flushed all over when he felt his ass opening, a hot burning stretch indicating where the head of Derek’s cock was entering him. The dull, hot pressure of it inside of him increased with every inch that Derek pressed relentlessly into him.

Exhaling with a drawn-out “ _Ah_ ”, he shut his eyes tight. He was shivering, flinching away unconsciously at the familiar pain and discomfort, but Derek held him close, his arms finding their way behind Stiles’ armpits, holding onto his shoulders from behind, so he could push them together at an awkward angle.

It had only been a few minutes ago that Derek had fingered him open, but it was still painful for Stiles to get used Derek’s dick inside him. He was breathing deeply and willing his body to relax as much as he possibly could, when he felt Derek’s tongue on his neck again, tickling and leaving obvious marks that he would feel terribly smug about later.

“Sorry, sorry,” the apology came out rushed and muffled against Stiles ear. Derek was smoothing down his hair, trembling with the effort of making himself hold still, body unmoving presumably so Stiles could get comfortable, kissing him fiercely but sloppily and it was only thanks to the aching of his over-stretched muscles that Stiles even noticed the three sharp taps against his collar-bone. ‘Okay?’

Kissing back as sincerely as he could, Stiles placed one of his hands on Derek’s thigh, outside of the view of the camera and drew a circle on Derek’s skin with his nail. ‘Okay.’

Derek rubbed a thumb over his sweaty cheek in a loving gesture, his mouth on Stiles’, hot bodies pressed against each other where they could, reveling in each other’s presence for a split second.

Then, after sucking on his tongue, Derek pushed himself up and off of Stiles’ body again, leaving him shuddering with the absence of Derek’s hot skin against his and started thrusting his hips forward, sliding into Stiles at a better angle now.

Stiles couldn’t help it, the feeling of Derek sliding into him, of being opened up roughly made him groan and sink his fingers into the sheets beneath him. They never made love like this, never this harshly and unprepared and carelessly. This was sex. There was no waiting, no overly sweet kisses, no excessive going slow, no desperate fumbling for skin and breath and touches, no hands and legs tangling, no confessions in between bruised lips. Stiles didn’t want to think about it.

The bright-hot friction where Derek’ was fucking into him didn’t subside, not even after he was all the way in and Stiles could feel Derek’s hipbones. Derek  pulled back a little, making Stiles wince at the dry pull, and added more lube where he could get to his dick, pushing back in and rotating his hips. A high-pitched moan left Stiles’lips when the shaft of Derek’s dick bumped against his prostate where he was still clenching tightly around Derek’s fat length, still feeling stretched too thin, still too uncomfortable to actually enjoy but rapidly adapting to the feeling.

And then Derek pulled back out almost completely in one smooth movement and thrust back inside him. With a yelp, Stiles threw his head back into the mattress and Derek immediately tensed. He was panting heavily above Stiles because he had been hard for a while and Stiles could tell that he was fast approaching the kind of turned on state that would make him oblivious to anything.

Derek was placing shuddering kisses down his jaw and neck, nibbling wetly at his skin, touching almost desperately, obvious in his desire to just _move_. It was a testimony to his will and his promise not to hurt Stiles, no matter what, that he didn’t.

Bodies still hot against each other, skin radiating heat and trickling sweat, Stiles stared into Derek’s eyes, smiling as he wiggled his body a little to accommodate Derek’s dick inside of him better. It still hurt, his body not used anymore to be getting fucked into so aggressively, to have somebody just shove their cock inside him with such selfish carelessness. He remembered vaguely when he’d shot his first scenes for Adler Studios, new and curious and completely oblivious to what sex could also mean apart from instant gratification. Stiles had loved it fast and dirty and rough to the point of pain.

He didn’t anymore.

He could see guilt in Derek’s dark eyes and kissed it goodbye insistently. The angle changed and Derek’s dick slid in even deeper, making Stiles groan against him, muscles shuddering. The light of one of the overhead lamps shone right into his eyes and he shut them, feeling how his body broke out into goose-bumps when the dick inside him pulled in and out in a steady, slow pace.

When the fat dullness in his ass didn’t hurt as much anymore, he leaned up and after catching Derek in a forceful kiss, he finally whispered, “Move”.

Derek didn’t have to be told twice.

Which a sharp snap of his waist, he pulled out and then started thrusting his waist in earnest, haphazard movements of trembling limbs, as he pushed his length into Stiles in deep thrusts, groaning at how tightly Stiles’ gripped around his length.

Getting penetrated was usually not really a reason for Stiles to lose his erection anymore, but having sex this rough was only ever his thing nowadays when done right and Derek’s image didn’t allow what was right for him.

Nevertheless, he felt himself getting hard under his own fingers, loud moaning sounds being pushed out of him with ever one of Derek’s shoves. He was tingly and hot and so incredibly breathless – the fast, bruising pace, they way Derek’s hands on his thighs were gripping hard and would leave definite marks on his skin, the way he was rutting back and forth on the mattress, panting and whining and still a little in pain even after Derek pulled his leg up higher, pushed his hand away and got his own on Stiles’ dick.

This way, though, Derek holding back the sounds he usually made, squeezing him with one hand, Stiles started to feel the burning heat in the pit of his stomach again, even sooner than he had anticipated. He felt his dick thicken and arched up, moving against Derek and supporting his weight when he dropped forward, still hammering his hips into his ass, cock a rock-hard pressure inside him.

They almost didn’t hear Jimmy this time.

“Change of position, guys.”

They were both trying hard to suck air into their lungs, clinging to each other and licking at each other’s mouths and they chose to ignore the assistants suggestions about going with the Reversed Cowgirl position. True, it was a good look for the cameras, but it was uncomfortable and way too strenuous on the muscles. They were both not up for any kamasutra-esque performances anymore and in one smooth movement, Derek pulled the earpiece from his ear and flicked it off into the distance, giving Stiles a dazed half-grin.

Without saying a word, red-faced and sweaty, he managed to maneuver Stiles around, until he was lying face down on the mattress.

Legs shaking, Stiles got up on his knees and didn’t even get to position himself comfortably before Derek was entering him again, mercilessly fucking into him in a harsh pace. The grip on his skin was admonishing, and the almost savage way Derek was snapping his hips into him elicited small whimpers from Stiles, which rapidly changed to gasps and long moans. Repeating their ritual from before, Stiles let Derek know that he was still okay and then started to push his ass back into Derek’s dick, making himself groan because of the increased friction and intensity and then grabbed the sheets hard in his hands.

Stiles knew he wouldn’t last long. Consumed by the languid movements of Derek’s dick pushing in and out of him, while his cheek was pressed flush against the cool sheet. His eyes were closed, mouth open in direction of the camera, face flushed with pleasure. Stiles was vibrating with every thrust of Derek’s hips and then one of his hands back to grab at Derek’s thigh.

“Faster,” he whimpered in a needy, wanton voice, absurdly pleased when Derek inhaled sharply above him and quickened his pace. He didn’t pull out as much anymore, instead focusing on going deeper, pressing closer to Stiles’ ass as his dick shoved into him in short, deep stabs. Stiles couldn’t help crying out, moving in time with Derek to get him even deeper. His dick had started leaking shortly before, now rubbing against the sheets in time with the thrusts and making Stiles see stars. He really hadn’t lied before when he’s said that he loved this position.

It took only a few moments after Derek finally took mercy on him and reached around to give his dick a few deliberate pumps, that Stiles came for the second time that evening, hot and sticky and intense, his entire body shuddering and stars exploding behind his eyelids. He simultaneously felt like he was vibrating out of his skin and bone-tired.

He clenched his muscles around Derek’s dick inside him, who had resumed a fast, merciless pace. Derek was gripping hard at him, as if to ensure he wouldn’t just get up and leave, and shoved him down on the bed. Leveling himself up above Stiles’ body, Derek continued drilling into him, little gasps and groans leaving his lips now. Stiles could feel the tension in Derek’s body, the muscles in his stomach and legs jumping and shivering. Derek came seconds later, pulling out of Stiles quickly and coming right on his gaping hole, fucking his come right back into him in one tense, agitated movement. Even though tired and strung out, Stiles groaned at the intrusion, at the knowledge of what Derek had just done, pushing his semen inside of him. Derek was panting above him, body first tense, then relaxed and pliable, as he sunk back on top of him, pressing Stiles into the wet-spot on the mattress.

Derek breathing harshly into his ear, chests both heaving heavily, Stiles opened his eyes and found himself eye to eye with a camera. Grinning into it, he took one of Derek’s hands and kissed its knuckles, smiling as he heard Derek chuckle calmly above him.

The lay still for a while, Stiles continuing the soft kisses until Derek pulled out of him, gently this time, and turned them around.

Tangled together, sweaty and exhausted, Derek whispered something into his ear, something so silent even Stiles could barely hear it and he snickered, before caressing Derek’s face and stroking his hair lazily.

“Me too,” he whispered back lovingly.

The cameras continued recording.

 

*

 

The drive back to the hotel was silent.

Both were tired but clean from taking a meticulous shower after the director had dismissed them and they had said their final goodbye’s to the audience. Jimmy had even looked a little tear-eyed.

Things hadn’t exactly gone as planned but apparently the studio chose not to be a stickler about it. Which Stiles was very pleased about. Given that they had been allowed to come in un-shaved and had even been asked not to use condoms (a thing none of them would have agree to if it wasn’t for the fact that they had indeed been in a monogamous relationship for the past three years and were both clean) – Stiles guessed this had been as much of a huge deal for the Studio as it had been for the two of them.

All in all, Stiles was satisfied with the outcome and the fact that this had been their last time on camera. Moreover, he had asked Erica very politely to lose their number when she had called to congratulate them right after the broadcast ended. He wasn’t sorry about insisting she never call them about work again.

Stiles still couldn’t really pinpoint why they had done it, if it had been pure vanity or if there had been a deeper reason behind it, if he had hoped that with this, it would give them closure somehow.

Derek didn’t really talk on the entire way back and went to bed almost immediately after they arrived at the hotel. Stiles went to take a leak, threw a few things into his duffle-bag for their flight home early the next morning and then went to bed himself.

Derek was waiting for him, eyes open and alert.

Once Stiles had cuddled into him, he sighed contently and they snuggled in the darkness, enjoying this different kind of intimacy.

“This was okay, right?” Derek finally asked.

Stiles smiled against the skin of his throat. “Yeah, I think so.”

“No complications? No after-thoughts? No regrets?” Derek voice sounded strange and Stiles looked up to try and find his eyes in the darkness.

“Regrets? About doing the live-show or about leaving porn?”

“… both,” Derek said with an air of insecurity.

“I don’t regret leaving,” Stiles stated immediately, stroking Derek’s chest-hair absent-mindedly. “We wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t.” Silent for a second, he corrected himself, “If we hadn’t.”

Derek hummed approvingly from above.

“And about doing the live-show … well, it’s too late to do anything about it now, right? But it’s strange, you know? I forgot what it’s like to just have sex. I don’t think I like it.”

Lying there, warm and comfortable, with just each other and no cameras around, Stiles realized just how true that statement was. Derek was kissing the top of his head and he felt so calm and just so _right_ , being here with him, he couldn’t even fathom why he had loved doing porn so much before.

“Does that mean we will never have sex again?” Derek sounded amused.

“We never have sex,” Stiles explained, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “we only make love. And you know that, Mister.”

Again, Derek hummed in agreement.

“So that was it, wasn’t it? It’s over.”

“It’s over,” Stiles agreed, tilting his head up to give Derek a kiss, lingering and sweet.

This chapter of their lives sure was. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Cruising" = When gay men look for hook-ups in public parks, usually having sex right on the spot. Sometimes different colors of handkerchiefs mark different preferences for an even faster communication between two gay men.  
> (It seems that a lot of people aren't really familiar with this term but I have done some research and it's really a word used almost everywhere around the world. Nowadays, what with internet-hookups etc. it might be a little obsolete though :D)
> 
> "Adler Studios" = it's basically Falcon Studios.
> 
> "Live-Show" = I'd like to clear up that those really do exist. As kind of an inspiration for this fic I took the Live-Show then-lovers Benjamin Bradley and Roman Heart did for Falcon Studios together some years ago (although I don't have the full show anymore and it doesn't seem to be on the internet anywhere.)
> 
>  
> 
> Any other questions? Let me know!  
> I am always open for criticism and thoughts!  
> Contact me under 'sterekallaround' or 'SleepyStrawberries' on tumblr.


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